


Blooms and Bruises

by Cryptkin



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Body Image, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:20:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29231412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryptkin/pseuds/Cryptkin
Summary: “—face.”“Pardon?” Raihan asks.Piers removes himself from Raihan’s neck to look him in the eye. “I said, ‘I like yer face’.Raihan tenses. Piers acts as if he doesn’t notice, but a hand has come up to brush against Raihan’s cheek. “Such a well-defined profile,” he continues, “I’m jealous of how handsome you always look.”
Relationships: Kibana | Raihan/Nezu | Piers
Comments: 5
Kudos: 70





	Blooms and Bruises

He’s in the middle of editing a photo for PokéSnap when the gentle tug of Piers pulls Raihan out of his daze. In habit, he lifts his arm just enough for Piers to snugly claim the warm embrace of a hug. They sit like that for moments, with Raihan’s free hand still playing with the editing software, and Piers not-so subtly worming his way into the others’ free lap, until Raihan has no choice but to verbally acknowledge his partner.

“What are you doing?” he asks with a soft laugh. Piers just pushes his face into the crook of Raihan’s neck and stays with his face hidden. Raihan pinches his side, then bites his ear, even going so far as to knead into his ticklish spot just under the ribs, but aside from a grumbled ‘geroff’ he can’t get Piers to answer.

Raihan puffs his cheeks out. Editing would have to wait, it seems, and he saves his progress before shutting the computer down and pushing his chair and the both of them away from his desk.

“Bed?” he asks.

“S’fine,” Piers replies.

Piers had never been a verbal sort, saving most his energy for performances. He would be personable enough to hold a conversation, but pleasantries stopped whenever it became intimate. He often expressed himself in other ways, and over the years Raihan had learned to communicate fluently with those ways. A squeeze of the hand, resting comfortably in the silence of each other, or pressed up back to back working on their own respective projects. Even when they needed space, Raihan and Piers weren’t far from each other.

And so Raihan, gently cupping the small of Piers’ back for support, carries the other to their shared room. He set Piers down in a tangle of hair and limbs, brushing away a spot for himself. There’s still a squawk of protest as he pulls a section of hair on accident.

They finally find a comfortable position together with no tugged hair or elbowed sternum, and Piers pulls himself over and on top of Raihan to his claimed spot against the clavicle. Raihan loops his arms up under Piers and winds around his chest. He’s about to grab his phone for mindless scrolling through apps when Piers mumbles something.

“ — face.”

“Pardon?” Raihan asks.

Piers removes himself from Raihan’s neck to look him in the eye. “I said, ‘I like yer face’.”

Raihan pauses, caught off guard by the — frankly sudden — compliment. His nose wrinkles in a smile and when he turns his head to kiss Piers’ forehead their mouths meet instead. He doesn’t mind the upgrade, and Raihan chases after the kiss when Piers pulls away. It’s a short game of keepaway, with Piers always being the one to break but not objecting when pulled back in for more. Raihan finally relents, but Piers moves up to kiss the bridge of his nose.

“I said,” he repeats again, “I like yer face.”

“And I like yours too! What’s this about?” Raihan laughs, squeezing his partner tight. “You haven’t clarified with those smooches, you know. Not that I’m objecting, I’m just confused.”

Piers hums, repositioning himself above Raihan so they’re shrouded in a curtain of hair. He leans down so often to peck at Raihan’s face affectionately. “I like your cheekbones.” A kiss. “Your jawline is strong.” Another kiss, lower to reach under his throat. “Your gaze is warm an’ invitin’.” A third kiss, much softer, at his temple.

Raihan practically purrs under all the attention, his grip on Piers melting and his hands coming to rest at his sides. “Go on,” he urges playfully, “tell me more about how good I am.”

“Oh, you’re a real laugh an’ a half. Any more and I might pop that fat head a’yers with that inflated ego.”

“You wound me.”

Piers smiles devilishly. “You like it anyway, you masochist.”

“Guilty.”

Piers leans down once more, a hair’s breadth away from Raihan. He hovers, quiet, as if trying to come up with his thoughts. “Your nose,” he says, and Raihan tenses. Piers acts as if he doesn’t notice, but a hand has come up to brush against Raihan’s cheek. “Such a well-defined profile,” he continues, “I’m jealous of how handsome you always look.”

Raihan’s mouth parts slightly, and his protest is caught in his throat when Piers leans in for a chaste kiss. “Why d’you hide it in those photos you post online?”

“They’re just touch ups.” Raihan knows it’s a guilty habit of his to slim his nose or lips, and Piers has called him out on it before (no, don’t phrase it like that, he tells himself), but that twinge of shame still held tight.

Piers takes the answer in silence, getting up to his knees on the bed and folding his hands in his lap. He pats at a thigh invitingly, and Raihan obliges by scooting over just enough that his head rests in the other’s lap. Fingers massage at his scalp soothingly as Piers begins humming a tune, one of those works in progress for a new album. It’s choppy, but no less beautiful in Raihan’s mind. In between bars, Piers asks, “Was there another comment?”

Raihan doesn’t answer at first. He’s caught up in the care and attention to detail that his boyfriend is giving him that he’s overwhelmed with emotion. He swallows a knot in his throat before he can croak out a yes.

Piers moves his hands downward to Raihan’s temple, rubbing soft circles and continuing his song. They stay like that for a pregnant moment, until Raihan breaks it with a quiet, fearful, “you’re not lying to me to make me feel better, are you?”

“Oh, Love,” Piers croons, cradling Raihan’s cheeks, which have now become wet with tears, “I would never. You’re a sight, an’ I’m sort’a prideful havin’ you on my arm. I’m not so shallow as to see you  _ only _ for your looks, but…” He trails off and gives Raihan the widest smile before bending down to pepper the man’s face in kisses. “Sometimes I like admiring the wrappin’ of a gift as well.”

“Well, you’re the kind of person who saves the paper at christmastime,” Raihan manages to joke, and they both laugh weakly at that.

“Hey, now, you can re-use it if you’re careful enough,” Piers protests, but they both smile and Raihan lifts himself up onto his elbows. 

“Feelin’ okay?” Piers asks, and Raihan nods.

“Not fully, but enough.”

“Enough is good.”

“Perfect would be better.”

“Shh,” Piers hushes, and they shift positions again to a cuddle. “Enough is good for now. I love you an’ you’re goin’ta put yourself in a tizzy if you keep at it. It’s gettin’ on, an’ I want to sleep before the sun rises.”

Raihan obliges and brings the comforter over the both of them. He feels Piers press against his side, tangling their legs together and he relaxes, dozing from half emotion, half exhaustion.

“Piers.”

…

“Piers?”

There’s a soft murmur of acknowledgement, but Piers doesn’t move.

“You...ground me. You make me feel  _ safe, _ and I don’t know how to thank you for it.”

“Pancakes,” is the mumbled reply.

“Pancakes,” Raihan repeats. “Thank you. I love you.”


End file.
